


The Attempt

by Clintbxrton



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2080548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clintbxrton/pseuds/Clintbxrton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know it won’t work.”</p><p>“I know, I know,” Bruce sighed, his eyes still on the weaponised metal in his hands. “Sometimes it’s just nice to hold it, you know?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Attempt

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[授權翻譯]嘗試](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2186382) by [CliatDW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CliatDW/pseuds/CliatDW)



Finding Bruce in a state like this was never something that Tony had anticipated. He’d been there for the story of the last time he’d tried: the whole thing about Hulk spitting the bullet back out again, but he’d never actually thought about Bruce trying again. Stupid really; as Tony stood in the dim light of the hallway, looking in at the broken man with the gun, it seemed only natural that he’d keep trying.

He couldn’t ask him what was wrong; he knew that it was never the right question and it never got a proper answer. And Bruce… well he knew what was wrong with Bruce. He didn’t need to be told. So, as he stepped into the room, he could really only say one thing: 

“You know it won’t work.”

“I know, I know,” Bruce sighed, his eyes still on the weaponised metal in his hands. “Sometimes it’s just nice to hold it, you know?”

Tony knew; there had been times when his own mind had been a dangerous place. As a manufacturer of weapons, he’d finish a prototype and think about testing it on himself rather than some plush dummy. Then everyone would know it worked and he would put an end to it all, never have to live up to anything else, never having to struggle again and the only thing that ever really stopped him was a stiff drink and a new toy. But yeah, it was nice to hold the gun sometimes. 

“Alright… Bruce, I know you think you’re alone here and you’re not in control but look how far you’ve come, yeah?” Since when Tony could put on such a caring voice, he didn’t know, but he was using it to his advantage now, moving his hand gently to the gun, just putting his hand on top of it for now. “You are not alone here. We all know how you feel.” Some more than most…

“It’s not that, Tony. You all have everything to lose but… I’m still a time bomb. I can’t get attached, I cant stay in one place. I have nothing to lose.”

Tony flinched. “You have me.”

For a moment, neither man said anything, both of them looking at the gun and Tony smiling sadly at the name etched into the side ‘Stark Industries.’ It was an old one then and Tony realised only now that it was something Bruce had probably carried around for years, always with him, always trying again when he started to settle down and began to fear for the lives of people he was actually beginning to care about. Tony moved his hand to the gun again, carefully unwinding Bruce’s fingers from the trigger guard. “You have me. And all the other guys. We care about you Bruce. That isn’t going to change. It’s not. Whatever happens, it’s not going to change. I promise.” He didn’t take his eyes away from the gun, just surprised he had gotten it this far out of his hands.

And then he looked up. He saw the water tack down Bruce’s face as a second tear chased silently after the first. “It wouldn’t work anyway, Bruce.”

Then, for a moment, Bruce collapsed against him, holding on tight and crying, weeping into his shoulder like a man who had just discovered he could cry at all. Before Tony’s eyes, Bruce became a trembling wreck, broken by stories of the past that he’d never speak of - but that Tony had read in his files. And Tony held on, rubbing gently through his shirt, hushing him, trying to be the man he wasn’t: the comforter. They sat like that for a long time until Tony made the decision.

It wouldn’t work anyway, he told himself. It wouldn’t work. So he handed back the gun.

“It won’t work,” Bruce mumbled.

“No, I’m counting on that,” was Tony’s answer. “Because I swear, if it works, I’m coming right after you. But I know it’s nice to hold the gun sometimes. I know it’s nice to tempt fate. And if you want to, I’ll let you do it, pull the trigger I mean. Because I’m counting on it not working and I’ll still be right here to call you an idiot and make you pancakes after.”

Bruce sniffed, cracking the tiniest of smiles. “Pancakes?”


End file.
